


Stray Dogs Don't Come Running (But They Do Run in packs)

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Agent Darcy, Darcy Gets It Done, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pole Dancing, Protective Darcy, Some girl on girl, very mild orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: She’s sitting in his office, in his pricey, high-back computer chair, with her feet thrown up in his lap, seven hundred dollar shoes he probably bought catching light through the window. Sitting here, looking every inch a Queen on his goddamn throne. Looking like she owns the place. She’s fucking with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure about this chapter. It was more plot than I intended to put in the fic. This is really just a Tony/Darcy slow burn where NOTHING ELSE FUCKING MATTERS. So while this is a heavy chapter, it really will have zero plot-effect on the story overall. It's just to showcase that Darcy? Is protective of Tony.

Tony thinks, perhaps, he fell in love with Darcy because he got to know her. It's a despairing thought that implies he’s never really gotten to  _ know _ anyone. Gotten to know their little quirks (of which Darcy has many, no surprise) and pet peeves and habits and everything in between.  He’s known enough people to know he  _ doesn’t _ like them.  But he’s gotten to know Darcy, and the more he knows, the more he loves. It’s a rabbit-hole effect, the deeper he goes... 

 

He learns that she always points the handle of her mug to the right, though she’s left-handed because she likes the way the warmth of the ceramic leaches into her palm. He learns she’s never dyed her hair, she can’t handle that kind of choice, she can barely order a sandwich at Subway thank you, she’s not good at pre-planning, last-minute thinking is more her thing. 

 

He learns that she hates socks, hate them so much she hasn’t worn a pair in a good three years. She also hates pants, which is why she wears a lot of leggings. It’s like pants, but not. She makes him laugh. 

 

When he learns she hates blue pens, he buys them in bulk just to watch her throw them across the room. When he learns she’s allergic to bees, he hides EpiPens all over the lab, though there’s never been so much as a spider in Stark Tower, thank you very much. When he learns she likes dirty chai tea lattes, he programs You to make them (with mixed results; You is kind of a tragedy.)

 

He wonders when he’ll ever stop learning about her. When he’ll find the wall where he knows it  _ all _ . He wonders what else there is to learn. It’s a mystery he can’t solve, but finds himself compelled to try anyway. 

 

He’s never been given the opportunity to learn a woman like this.  Not even Pepper had woven herself so deeply into the more maddening parts of his life.  And maybe that isn’t fair to Pepper, Tony will admit.  Maybe it isn’t so much he never had the opportunity.  Maybe he just didn’t have the inclination.  People were boring and tedious and contrary and they didn’t understand Tony, so Tony couldn’t be fucked to understand them. With Darcy, it’s like he’s not living his life anymore. He’s living hers, and it’s fascinating, and strange, to be in his forties and realize  _ other people have lives too.  _

 

He suppose he always knew. He just didn’t care.  Still doesn’t, for the most part. 

 

But he’s never been one to ignore a mystery and Darcy? There’s so much about Darcy, Tony’s yet to learn. 

 

He forgets sometimes, until it punches him in the face, that Darcy had a whole life before Tony. That there was a time in his own life, when she wasn’t there. He can’t fathom it, and so he doesn’t, until he has too. 

 

Tony never really thought about what it meant that Darcy had been an  _ Agent _ once.  Maybe because she doesn’t check the Obvious Agent Box.  Tony sometimes forgets that Darcy had seen the deeper, darker parts of SHIELD, and had been slated for so much more.   Then, she reminds him. 

 

There are men coming. Fury’s men, or rather men who like to call themselves Fury’s  _ bosses _ which is a fucking laugh, honestly.  They want to speak to him, want to pick at him, interrogate him, make him sign things and probably hand him things.  They’ve come before, pressing to pigeon hole the Avengers into some semblance of government mandate. But Tony’s not a stogy, won’t march to any beat but his own.  It’s enough they have their hooks in half his team, in his opinion, with Natasha, Clint and Steve all standing at attention. 

 

This time is different. This time, when they call, it’s for Tony Stark and not Iron Man.  They come for Stark Enterprise, the innovation, the brain. It’s not the first time. His father had inadvertently helped  _ found _ SHIELD and Tony would never be fully free of that legacy.  

 

Tony won't go, of course, he’s never come when called, he’s a stray dog, thanks. He knows someone needs to represent Stark Industries and all its influence with the Avengers and the World, which to be fair, is a lot.  Normally he’d call Pepper, she’s fantastic at these things, her dry professionalism coupled with her pretty face and innocent eyes is like creepy old man bait. It works with all the shareholders. They fall into her trap, every time. 

 

But these aren’t shareholders. These are men who thought nuking New York sounded like a pretty good idea. Pepper’s not equipped for that. Fuck, Pepper doesn’t even know about that. Few people do. Two of them are standing in the room. 

 

“Why can’t you go?” Darcy asks, her left foot propped up on his desk.  Her heels are a deep, candy apple red, with wide ankle straps and sharp, gold studs decorating the rounded, platform toe and pencil-thin heel. They’re intimidating, in an aggressive stripper kind of away.  Tony thinks about her shoes a lot. 

 

He sighs, contemplates telling her it’s because he has better things to do, because he doesn’t care what they have to say, because he can’t be bothered. But that’s a lie; he  _ does _ care. These men are dangerous, and won’t be ignored. “Because, they’ve asked me to. And by ask, I mean demand. I’ll be more than happy to drop in on them next week unexpectedly but I’m not going to come running because they rang a bell.” 

 

She nods like she gets that. And maybe she does.  Darcy has an uncanny ability of understanding Tony where all else fail.  “There’s no point in giving them a false sense of power. They might have half the Avengers on the leash, but you’re Iron Man  _ and _ you’re Tony Stark. No one owns you. You are your own people, outside of their influence. You showed that when you threw the nuke. I agree; you shouldn’t go.” 

 

“Thank you!” Tony says because he likes it when people agree with him. It doesn’t happen often enough. 

 

“I should.” 

 

There needs to be sound effects for dealing with Darcy. A loud, rubber-against-asphalt tire screech for moments like this. “ _ What _ .” 

 

“It’s you or me, Tony.” She points at him with the rounded toe of her shoe and her voice goes all businessy in a way it only ever does when she’s getting her Political Science on. “They’re lobbying to get in on the new exploratory research. They want Stark Enterprise to fund more of  _ their _ bullshit projects and they want to grab patents for their own use. They’re  _ very _ interested in what Dr. Banner’s team is working on. I’m higher up in the company anyway; they should be flattered.” 

 

Tony picks up her ankles and slides his ass over the desk. She throws her feet into his lap, and he fiddles with the sharp points of the gold studs, let’s them bite into his palms.  She has small feet for someone so top heavy, a dainty size six to counterpoint double D’s on top.  The physics of her physique seem, from an evolutionary standpoint, unlikely and yet here she is, in all her tiny, distracting glory. 

 

He’s stalling. 

 

“We’ve worked with them for years. Even before I knew what SHIELD was, I did a majority of my business in military grade weaponry.” Not just with the US Military, either. It’s a source of endless shame, a deep rooted guilt that will never fully leave him. He’d been following his father’s legacy, and he knows now, that was never his path. But he’d followed it, blindly, for a long time. “Not to mention Cap. But I’d just as soon not do any business with them at all now that I know what kind of people they are.” 

 

Tony barely catches the little smile that curls the corner of her glossy mouth.  For all that she seems to appreciate the billionaire philanthropist playboy, he couldn’t forget that she’d told him how his decision to become Iron Man, how it drove her to...well. Go into Political Science. But also want to change the world. Now that he knows Darcy...He can’t think of anyone more likely.  He tries not to think about it. It makes him feel weird.  “It’s probably a good idea to play nice to some degree.  SHIELD gets what they want, no matter what the cost.” 

 

“You’ve already proven they can’t just take Stark tech,” Tony argues. “So why bother dealing with them at all?” 

 

“SHIELD’s bigger than you think it is,” Darcy says, and the sudden severity, the sudden quiet in her voice....it catches Tony’s attention. “It goes deeper than you could ever imagine, Tony.”  She fidgets with a loose bolt she’d plucked from his desk, pinches it between her fingers and looks at him through the hole before tossing it back. The gravity in her gaze  _ scares _ him.  “You’ve already seen it. How easy it is for them to get in. Natasha - Natalie Rushman. You think they don’t have more like her?  You think you don’t have hundreds of SHIELD agents working in your tower? How’d they get all your tech in the first place? You had to have thought about it.” 

 

They had, and Tony had removed dozens of employees on suspicion alone, though he never did find conclusive proof. “We screen----” 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Darcy waves a hand. “Tony...” She shakes her head, like she doesn’t know how to finish. Like she can’t. “What is SHIELD?” Before he can answer, she shakes her head. “Not...Not what is it? I know what it is. But how did it come to be? It was established to fight Hydra.  And it was effective. Very effective. And the only way to beat something is to be better. But the only way to be better than something like Hydra is to be  _ worse _ . Think about that - think about what that means.” 

 

Tony sits on that. Stews for a moment. “Okay.” He’s not sure what he’s agreeing to. Not sure what she’s trying to say. But he trusts her, fully and without hesitation. She’s proven to be competent to a fault, and she knows SHIELD from SHIELD’s perspective. There’s no reason to believe she doesn’t understand the situation. “Okay, you should go.” 

 

“I should,” she agrees, the stiffness in her voice falling way to her usual levity. “They might even respond favorably to me. Familiar face, and all that.” 

 

“Invite them to the Stark Expo,” Tony suggests. None of the exploratory projects being funded by the new donations would be in the line-up; next year was like to be nothing the world had ever seen from Stark Enterprise.  Still, in four weeks time, Tony would roll out the red carpet for  _ Science _ . 

 

Darcy hums. “I’m sure they’d intended to come already. Plus, I have a feeling they have an idea what’s going to be shown at the Expo.” 

 

“Exactly.” Tony shrugs, slightly distracted by her skirt.  He’s fairly sure it was knee length when she came into the office, but it’s riding high on her thighs now. She’s fucking with him.  It’s not the first time.  From the first day, a lime green bra and her skynetting his AI with tits... Buttons have a way of popping loose on her blouse, the lacy edges of her bras have a way of peeking up, the thick black bands of her garters---

 

She’s sitting in his office, in his pricey, high-back computer chair, with her feet thrown up in his lap, seven hundred dollar shoes he probably bought catching light through the window. Sitting here, looking every inch a Queen on  _ his _ goddamn throne. Looking like she owns the place. She’s fucking with him. She’s always fucking with him. It’s who she is as a  person. It has very little to do with Tony.  He’s seen her play Bruce the same way.  Fury, even.  Coffee Cart Guy on the street outside the tower.  The way she’s probably played these SHIELD fucks, once upon a time.  _ Familiar face. _  It’s not for Tony. None of it’s for Tony.  None of her is for Tony.  He’s seen the way men melt for her, knows it for what it is, and can’t help but fall apart, himself. 

 

Tony feels a little  _ unhinged _ . 

 

He wants her so goddamn bad. 

 

“Video call them,” Tony’s mouth says, which is dumb, dumb, dumb. He doesn’t want to talk to them.  “From my office. Right now.” 

 

Darcy’s eyebrow quirks, but she pulls up the program. “Okay?” 

 

“Wait.”  He moves around the desk, crosses her ankles the other way. “Wanna play a little game?” 

 

She looks interested, hazel eyes narrowing.  Darcy likes to play.  Life is a fucking game to the both of them. “What did you have in mind?” She leans back in his chair, hands curled lazily over the armrest. 

 

“Tell them you’re my secretary,” Tony grins. “Little insult to injury, but still completely on the up and up.” 

 

Darcy snorts. “Secretary, or  _ sexretary _ ? They probably already think we’re fucking.”

 

Tony doesn’t pout, exactly. “You fuck one assistant, and suddenly---” 

 

“I actually meant they probably think we’re fucking because they’ve met me. You’ve read my file. I like older men, and bad decisions.” She arches a brow at him. “Me and Phil were like the worst kept secret at SHIELD.  It’s probably half the reason they never took anything I did or said very seriously.”  

 

Tony can see how her Vixen Schtick could undermine the beautiful, wicked brain of hers.  People underestimate her, just like they did Pepper for her sweet, soft face.  Always a mistake, and one Tony likes to witness. “That’s a good point. Let’s roll with it.” ” Boldly, he puts his hands on her thighs and pushes her skirt up a little more until---”I fucking  _ knew _ you were wearing the garters.” 

 

“Nat bought them for me. Pepper says I have to wear  _ something _ ,” Darcy pouts. “And pantyhose are stupid.”  She doesn’t fix her skirt, which is high enough that Tony can see the barest hint of her panties. Which, inexplicably, match her shoes. She shoots him an arched, amused look. “Anything else, Mr. Stark?”

 

“Buttons.” He waves a hand at her blouse, a silky gold sleeveless thing. “Pop a couple buttons. You don’t look nearly debauched enough to have spent any time with me. They’ll never buy it.” 

 

He wonders why Darcy does, without so much as a question. But she does, nimble fingers plucking one, two, and  _ three _ buttons.  He can see -  _ -shit- _ \- the edges of a deep red lace.  It sits in stark contrast to the pale gold, and Tony knows these colors. 

 

“Why are you dressed like a slutty Iron Man?”  The shoes. The shirt. The bra. The panties. 

 

“Tony, any Iron Man is a slutty Iron Man. I  _ have _ met you.” Darcy’s laugh is loud and sharp. “I made an appointment with Director Fury this afternoon.  To discuss proper avenues of communications between SHIELD and Stark Enterprise. Ones that don’t include jackboot thugs and thinly veiled threats.” 

 

Tony blinks. “You did? Wait--- Why?” 

 

Darcy leans back, and pops two more buttons from the bottom.  He can see her belly button, Jesus Christ. He’s forgotten, completely, what he’d had planned.  There was a method to this madness, he’s sure of it. “Because you’re not a dog to be called, Tony.  If they want to liaison with Stark Enterprise, they can go through the proper channels.” Smiling sweetly, she pushes a bra strap off her shoulder, so it hangs lurid and bright against her pale skin. Tony’s not sure he’s ever seen someone embody decadence and sin, more. “Me.” 

 

“So asking me if you could go instead was just a formality?” 

 

“I wasn’t actually asking your permission.” She blows him a kiss. Tony’s balls tighten. “You’re not the boss of me.” Her fingers hover over the keyboard. “So we gonna do this, or not?” 

 

“What’s the plan? I still don’t want to talk to any of them.” 

 

“Not a problem. If they’re preparing to storm the castle so to speak, they’re probably at SHEILD right now.  Laura, she’s one of Fury’s administrative team, will put me through.  And then...Well. You let me handle it. ” She shrugs, and her bra strap slips a little further. “So do I look like I got this job on my knees, or what?” 

 

He almost says no if only to touch her more. “You look...Yeah.” Tony has both hands braced on the arms of the chair, and he’s all but folded over her, towering. “You look like I fucked you over this desk and couldn’t be bothered to call them while I was in office.” 

 

Darcy grins. “Insult to injury.” 

 

“You didn’t tell me why you’re wearing my colors.”  He’s not actually sure he can handle her fucking answer. 

 

“Because I enjoy making Nick twitch.” Nobody calls Director Fury  _ Nick _ . It makes Tony kind of hard to hear it. Darcy lifts her head, and they’re still so fucking  _ close _ .  “And what better way than Team Iron Man? Team Tony?”

 

“Team Avengers,” Tony corrects. He’s not a one-man show anymore. That way lies madness and ruin.  He pushes himself up and steps out of the view of the camera view. 

 

“I’m not here for the Avengers.” Darcy hits the button. “I’m here for you.” 

 

*** 

  
  


“ _ Agent Lewis _ ?” 

 

Tony only vaguely recognizes the old, wrinkled faces that fill the screen.  Fury’s there, seated to the left, looking especially smooth and dark in counterpoint to his bosses.  His expression is both horrified and resigned.  Tony himself is on the other side of the projection, out of sight. 

 

_ Agent Lewis.   _ Jesus Christ. 

 

Darcy laughs, a pretty little sound that is nothing like her real one.  This one's low, and throaty, rough like she’d just---. “Not so much with the Agent, President Mitchells. Miss Lewis is fine.” 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mitchells sounds horrifyingly  _ genuine _ . “Director Fury did say you’d chosen a different avenue of employment, though he failed to mention where.”

 

_ Uh oh _ , Tony thinks gleefully.   _ Fury’s in trouble.  _

 

“Oh he didn’t tell you?” She tilts her head, broken curls spilling over her shoulder and exposed bra strap.  She taps her toes together, and the gold studs clink loud in the quiet of the office. “I’m Mr. Stark’s secretary.” 

 

Yeah. Tony has a boner. 

 

“He did not,” Mitchells says, evenly, and at the edge of the screen, Fury twitches. “Is Mr. Stark in?” 

 

“Funn that. You  _ just _ missed him.” Darcy grins. “I intended to meet with Nick later this afternoon, but Tony...I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, asked that I address the situation with haste. He apologizes for not having time to meet with you and asked that I tell you that while he appreciates your invitation....Your invitation to let yourself into the Stark Tower I mean....you can kindly go fuck yourself.” She pauses, and slides her tongue across her teeth. “I’m paraphrasing. Sort of.” 

 

That.  _ That _ isn’t what they talked about.  Darcy had said -- Darcy had been the one in favor of working with SHIELD.  Tony holds his breath. 

 

“Agent--- Ms. Lewis.” Mitchells sucks in a breath, while the men around him titter and grumble  _ aggressively _ . “The working relationship between Stark Enterprise---” 

 

“Can it, David.”  _ David _ . David. What the fuck. “The working relationship between SHIELD and Stark Enterprise has been wildly violated on  _ your _ end since the passing of Howard Stark in 1991.  You monopolized on the death of Tony Stark’s father. You used his grief to manipulate a legacy contract in your favor. One might say that Howard Stark’s death was...convenient. Very, very convenient.” 

 

David Mitchell’s remains silent, and Tony feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  It is a wild accusation and SHIELD has  _ nothing _ to say. 

 

“Tony Stark is not your man.”  She leans forward suddenly, shoes dropping to the floor, tits all but bursting out of her crimson bra, where they sit framed in rumpled gold silk on the desk. She looks every bit the part his girl, and Tony.....Tony  _ can’t _ breathe. “Tony Stark is  _ mine _ .” 

 

Oh Jesus Fucking  _ Fuck _ .  He wants to set the fucking world on fire, for how bad he just wants to put his hands on her. 

 

“Ms. Lewis,” Director Fury cuts in, over the sudden hushed outrage. “Regardless of your...affections...for Mr. Stark, there is a contract in place---” 

 

“You wanna play contracts with me, Nicky?” Darcy grins like a shark, and toys with one of the still-closed buttons of her blouse. “ Wanna play  _ information _ ?” 

 

“Ms. Lewis.” Fury twitches. “Personal vendetta aside---

 

“This isn’t personal. You want to know what’s personal? President Mitchells,” Darcy says sweetly, propping her hand in her chin, elbow braced on the desk. “Hows your wife?” 

 

“Lovely,” Mitchells bites out, and Tony’s pretty sure Darcy wouldn’t fuck someone over 50.  He’s like 95% sure that’s not what this is. 

 

“9895 Penbrook Lane. How’s she liking Boston, anyway? Oooh, I know. Let’s ask her.” Darcy pulls up another call, audio only this time, and types in a number Tony doesn’t know. She makes it eight digits before Mitchells caves. 

 

“Enough.” He silences the entire room with that single word, and looks Darcy in the eye. “You’ve played your hand, Ms. Lewis.” 

 

“I’ve played  _ a _ hand, David.” She sits up, prim and proper, like her tits aren’t hanging out. “Care to play again?” 

 

“Another day, perhaps.” President Mitchells mouth pinches, like he wants nothing less and Tony wonders, not for the first time,  _ who the fuck Darcy Lewis is _ . “Ms. Lewis,” he hedges, with obvious unease. “A working relationship between Stark Enterprise and SHIELD is beneficial.” 

 

“Beneficial for who?” Darcy rolls her eyes. “This isn’t the 1940’s.  Tony’s ten times the man his father ever was. Stark Enterprise doesn’t need government funding to back research. We’re not in the business of  arms. We’ve seen what your people do with genetic research and frankly, we’re  _ not _ interested. We don’t need you.” 

 

“Ms. Lewis, SHIELD and Stark Enterprise----”

 

“You need us,” Darcy cuts him off, leaning back in the chair. She throws her shoes back up on the desk, and folds her hands into her lap. “What’s Stark Enterprise’s aid worth to you, boys? Top minds in all fields. Unprecedented independent funding. Tony fucking Stark.” 

 

The man to Mitchell’s left clears his throat. “Independent Agencies can be temporarily---” 

 

“Oh please. This isn’t eminent domain, Sanders.” Darcy shakes her head. “It’s as you say, SHIELD and Stark have a legacy working contract.  One that I’ve appraised myself of  _ intimately _ . You can’t confiscate anything.  That shit with the Quintjet? Not gonna fly. Try it again, and we’ll sue your pasty, shriveled balls off. And when we win, all previous Stark Projects revert back to Stark ownership.” She pauses, mouth pursing thoughtfully. “I always wanted my own  _ Captain America _ . Bet if I asked Tony  _ real _ nice, he’d even let me play with him. More than I already have of course.” 

 

The man to Mitchell’s right wheezes. “Ms. Lewis,” he begins, sounding every bit the elderly grandfather sort. “You’re a smart girl. Do you think it’s wise to threaten us? We are not to be trifled with.” 

 

Darcy reels, eyes widening with theatric offense. “Really, Mr. Jameson? I didn’t realize I was threatening anyone. I thought we were having a very civil discussion on the legalities pertaining to your attempted acquisition of Stark Tech.  However, if you’re opening the table for threats....” She shrugs, and smiles, and doesn’t move from her casual, indifferent pose. “Whiskey. Beta. Mountain. Singapore.” They mean nothing to Tony, but every single body on the screen tenses, and shrinks back.  Fury though, looks  _ curious _ . Possibly even amused. “Threat enough for you?” 

 

“Agent Romanoff will---” 

“Big sister? Пожалуйста, позвоните ей. Whiskey,” Darcy says, firmly. “Beta. Mountain. Singapore. Fucking _try me_.”

 

Mitchell doesn’t try to speak again. 

 

“You were never this good in your classes, Lewis.” Fury comments. “I’m impressed.” 

 

“Gotta have a cause you believe in,” Darcy tells him, with a wink. “Too bad for you I think SHIELD is bullshit.  That said, you and yours are welcome to come to the Expo in four weeks.  Stark Enterprise is even willing to renegotiate  _ prior _ contracts.  Why Mr. Stark and I were just discussing how we feel a working relationship between Stark Enterprise and SHIELD is pivotal to our continued collaboration. We’re not unreasonable, Mr. Mitchells. We’re just not that easy.” 

 

Mitchells twitches, and Fury just up and  _ leaves _ . “Very well, Ms. Lewis.”

 

“You know,” Darcy drawls, wrapping a curl around her finger. “All this could have been very easily avoided had you just left me in Puente Antiguo. But no, you had to kidnap---” 

 

“We hired---” 

 

“ _ Kidnapped _ ,” Darcy points a finger at him. “Burn it into your brains, boys. Kidnapped me, and threw me in with your lot.” She pauses, ever the actress. “You locked me in a closet with all your skeletons. You should have left me in New Mexico.” 

 

“I didn’t realize it was personal, Ms. Lewis.” 

 

Darcy laughs again, and Tony’s an expert on her laughter. He’s filed them all away, neatly categorized and analyzed.  This one scares him. “It isn’t, not really. This is just me doing my job.” She blows him a kiss, and Mitchells flinches. “But imagine if it  _ was _ ?” 

 

God. She’s mean. She’s mean and scary and blase and reckless.  Tony’s never felt more vain in his life, but she’s just so fucking  _ gorgeous _ like this. 

 

“Will that be all?”  He asks, he asks like he hadn’t demanded Tony see him.  Like this wasn’t a shit show of his own design. 

 

Before Darcy can reply, Tony pushes himself forward. He pins her to the back of the chair, and digs his hands into her hair. “Mr. Stark,” some old fuck says, from the holo screen but Tony doesn’t give a goddamn shit. He kisses her, hard and deep and Darcy moves into it, curling up her body, small, smooth hands cupping the rough cut of his jaw. When he pulls away, she grins, sloppy, kiss bruised mouth a wreck of red gloss.  Tony turns to the camera, and winks. 

 

Darcy still has her hands on him, when she looks at the Confederation Of Old Fucks With Nukes and High Opinions of themselves. “We know about your moles,” she says, sudden and sharp. No hint of flirtatious levity, no coy curl to her mouth. “But do you know about ours?” 

 

She cuts the call. “Nice addition, there at the end.” He doesn’t correct her, doesn’t say he couldn’t fucking stand not to be touching her for one goddamn moment, that he lost higher brain function because seeing her be mean and bossy and threatening shorts his nervous system. He just nods. She waves a hand over her own body like Vanna White. “How’d I do?” 

 

“We really don’t pay you enough.” Tony blinks at her, and struggles to find the ground that’s fallen beneath his feet. “What the fucking fuck. You said we were should play nice.” He honestly can’t remember what was going through his head, when he pushed her skirt up. He sits down. On the floor, next to her chair. Which is actually his chair, that she’s taken over. “What was all  _ that _ about?”    


“I said we  _ should _ . I didn’t say I was going to.” Darcy grimaces. “Well, originally I just planned on talking to Fury. I knew I could get him to call off the dogs. I’ve got a little dirt, you know?  But you wanted to call them...” 

 

“You said you were going to meet them!” 

 

“No I said I should be the one to meet them, not that I was going to,” Darcy counters and it’s the kind of loophole Tony can appreciate when it’s not being used on him. “I said I made an appointment with Nick.  But this works too. In fact, it probably worked better. They’re going to tear themselves upside down looking for our plants.” 

 

“Do we have plants?” Tony feels like she should know this. 

 

“One or two.” She reaches out and digs her hands into his hair.  Tony can’t help but slump sideways, and press his cheek to her bare knee. All he can taste is her lipgloss and he’d really like some scotch. “It all worked out.” 

 

“Did they really kill my parents?” 

 

Her hand stills in his hair, and Tony holds his breath. “I never found anything to say they did,” she murmurs, like she doesn’t want to say anything at all. “But I found...Well. A lot of very convenient deaths. I don’t know Tony, I really don’t.  Most of the evidence suggested HYDRA, but HYDRA had way less to gain, than SHIELD.  Sorry...Sorry I said like that. You shouldn’t have had to hear it like that.”

 

“I’ve suspected,” Tony admits, rubbing his stubble on her thigh because he’s a bad man, a bad man who can’t pass up an opportunity, and because she lets him. “You did good, kiddo.” 

 

“Yeah well.” She runs her fingers through his hair again, and he looks up to see her looking at nothing at all. “Tony, if I didn’t work for you, I think SHIELD would kill me.” 

 

Tony sits up, slowly, and looks at her.  “What?” 

 

“I know a lot.” She looks down at him, a little wrinkle between her brows. “I just...I know a lot.” 

 

“Like where the President of SHIELD’s wife lives?” Tony doesn’t understand what to make of this information, and the sensation of not knowing makes his skin itch, and his heart hammer.

 

“No. No, that’s easy. That’s...Nothing.” She smiles, faintly. “I think the only reason they haven’t is because Nick likes me.” 

 

“Fury doesn’t like people.” 

 

“If Nick didn’t like me, I’d be dead.” Darcy says again, firm and sure like she believes it. “And Phil. And Natasha and Clint and even Cap.  I’m---  _ Tony _ .  If anything ever happens to me---” 

 

“Stop.” 

 

“My ipod,” she ignores him. “The old nano. Everything is there. I don’t know what it all is.” 

 

“Darcy,” Tony pushes himself to his knees, ends up between her legs, so he can look her in the eye. “Darce’. Nothing’s going to happen to you.” 

 

“I have an eidetic memory.” She grabs his face and he can feel the slight tremble in her palms. He’s never seen her scared before, and he hates it, viscerally. “Everything I ever saw in SHIELD, Tony.  _ Everything _ . I remember it. I’d been there, over a year Tony, when anyone found out. That’s when Phil pushed me up to shadow Nick, and raise my clearance level so it wouldn’t look as bad that I knew what I knew. If...If I hadn’t already befriended Natasha and Phil by then... They couldn’t just disappear me.  But it still made Phil uncomfortable.  He gave my file to Pepper, Tony. He got me out of there.” 

 

The severity of the situation settles on Tony’s shoulders, leaned anxiety. “What’s your accuracy?”  If she was like him, there was a good chance she had a  _ lot _ of SHIELD secrets rattling around her brain. And they knew it. 

 

Darcy hesitates, side eyeing him like she doesn’t want to admit it.  “92%.  97% if I actually read it, instead of just look at it. But if I  _ see _ it, I can usually write it down.”  She shrugs. “I mean...just because I can remember something, doesn’t mean I necessarily understand what it means.  I can recall the words, but they don’t always make sense.” 

 

97% accuracy.  Tony boggles at that, wonders how he hadn’t realized sooner.  It does explain her alarming competence, though. “Darcy that’s better  _ than _ me.” Tony’s recall ran at an easy 89% for anything he saw.  Slightly more, if read or  _ heard _ . “What did they have you doing in SHIELD? You couldn’t have had that much access to begin with..” 

 

Darcy laughs, the little one she saves for Tony. It makes him feel better to hear it. “You know what I did for Jane, right? When I interned? I coded her notes. Well, I decoded and recoded.  I transcribed. I was pretty much a file clerk. So that’s where SHIELD put me. In files.  I was transcribing files to digital in one of their dank fucking holes. For over a year. See, sort, scan, send. Maybe fifteen seconds per page, ten hours a fucking day. For over a year.  I don’t know what half of it fucking means, but...I’ve been transcribing it. Some of it Tony...It’s not good.” 

 

“So you....pretty much saw everything.” Tony can’t imagine what kind of skeletons SHIELD must have in their closets and he imagines it’s a lot for one brain to handle. “How long did it take them to realize?” 

 

“Memory recall comes up in Agent Exams.” Darcy shrugs. “To be fair, I never realized it was all that impressive. I’ve always been this way. But when my results came up over ninety percent accuracy, they uh...Interrogated me.” She swallows, and shakes her head. “We’re not talking about that. We’re talking about the fact that...Clint and Natasha  _ knew _ my neighbor was an inside job, and so did I.” 

 

“You think it was SHIELD? You told me HYDRA.” 

 

Darcy looks away. “Sometimes Tony, I don’t think they’re different anymore. Not by much anyway. “Whoever it was, they were keeping tabs on me. Phil was never the mark. I was; they were watching Phil because of his relationship with me. Nat and Clint raised holy fucking hell in SHIELD. It’s one thing to baby sit me, but it’s a whole ‘nother to drug me and break into my apartment. I guess some of the stuff he was doing...Wasn’t exactly what SHIELD was asking. Nat was pissed but Clint...Well. For spying, they’re really offended by spying.” 

 

“Jobs like ours? Pretty morally grey. You have to pick your own standards and live by them.” It’s a lot of information to process, a lot of revelations to accept.  Tony’s still on his knees between her thighs.  He can’t bring himself to move, and she doesn’t seem inclined to care. “You’re safest here.” 

 

“I know,” Darcy sighs. “And I want to be here. It isn’t like SHIELD. They fucking yanked me out of my sociology 102 class, and shipped me to DC with a blindfold on. And then  _ offered _ me a job, while I was handcuffed to a table. Phil would have found me something else, if I didn’t want to take Pepper’s offer. Natasha mentioned Budapest.” 

 

“Do  _ not _ go to Budapest with Nat.” Tony laughs; he’s heard the stories. “No one’s going to disappear you.” 

 

“Ipod nano,” Darcy tells him, before leaning forward suddenly and pulling him into a hug.  They don’t----they don’t hug. But that doesn’t keep Tony from wrapping his arms around her.  He lets the heat from her bare breasts bleed through his shirt and marvels at how sexual it  _ doesn’t _ feel.  Intimacy without sex is a new concept. “I keep it in my nightstand next to my vibrator.” 

 

Tony snorts into her neck, half afraid he might cry if he doesn’t laugh. “J _ esus Christ. _ ” 

 

He pulls back and does up her buttons and she lets him because their relationship - their friendship - is strange. He pulls her skirt down, lets his hands touch her bare thighs more than a friend should. She lets him.  He wipes away the smear of gloss smudging over her bottom lip and wonders what his own face must look like. He tries to remember why, why he wanted her to look like he’d just had her---

 

“Hey, so that clears up your afternoon.” Darcy grins, and throws up his appointments on the holoscreen.  “And we haven’t caused any kind of scandal in like...two months.” 

 

“What about---” 

 

“That was you, I said us.” She winks at him. “Come ooon. We haven’t done anything stupid since Portland. We deserve it.” 

 

“What about SHIELD?”  Tony’s not exactly the type to stay locked in his Ivory Tower because of jackboot thugs.

 

Darcy snorts. “They wouldn’t play their hand so soon. Plus, Nick bounced early. Chances are, he’s already put word out with Phil. Clint’s going to offer to come with.  He’s the least offensive babysitter, so I don’t mind.”  She bats her eyes at him, and pouts. “Pepper’s in Tokyo, she won’t get back in time to yell at us  _ relevantly _ . Come on, what do you say? Dancing? Bottle service? I’ll let you pick my dress.” 

 

Tony already has the dress picked out. The shoes too.  Still, he’s not entirely sure it’s a good idea.  Especially given how pissed off they’ve no doubt just made SHIELD. “Darcy are you...Are you wheedling? Are you trying to  _ convince _ me to go out?” 

 

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, when the fuck did you get so boring?” 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write smut, but Tony and Darcy aren't actually fucking yet. So there's this. 
> 
> Someone once commented that Tony needed to stop sleeping with other people and I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. And then made him sleep with more people. 
> 
> Now it's Darcy's turn.

Darcy puts the dress he’d chosen on with an arched look. “I don’t remember buying this,” she comments, stepping out of her bathroom. “Tony.”

 

It’s almost demure, given her usual tastes; black lace with full length sleeves and a high collar neckline. _Almost_ , save for the sheer cut-out panel from throat to navel.  He can see her belly button. “I put it in your bag when we went to Saks last week.”  It’s a little tight, as dresses are often made by her tits, and rides up higher than intended on her thighs.  She’s wearing the garters again.

 

She does a little shimmy, and he watches as she adjusts her tits beneath the lace, all but feeling herself up in front of him. Tony...Just. Really likes this dress. “Ugh. I had to take my bra off. It didn’t look right.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, a little mesmerized by the top to bottom cleavage on display through the thin lace. “That’s why I picked it.” The shoes he’d kept simple, plain black wedged ankle boots with an auster four inch heel.  “You bringing your com? This is more sugar baby than escort.”  

 

She picks her com up from the coffee table and fits it easily into her ear. “Mmm. Want me to call you daddy?”

Barton   _does_ invite himself along, meeting them in the elevators.  Darcy shoots Tony a not-so-subtle grin. “How’s Phil?”

 

“Expect a call,”  Barton  says dryly. “He’s not thrilled. You told them to call Nat?”

 

“They threatened to sic her on me!” Darcy laughs wide and wicked. “Natasha! Honestly. Maybe I dropped some names. A few. Natasha. Phil. Cap. Maybe I called Director Fury Nicky to his face.”

 

Tony watches them from behind his sunglasses, while fiddling with his phone under the guise of summoning Happy.  Barton  smirks. “But not mine.”

 

“Gotta keep a few tricks up my sleeve.” She winks at him and licks her bottom lip. “Speaking of sleeves, I see you decided to leave yours at home.”

 Clint refused to change, even when Tony said he was dressed like a fucking bouncer.  In fact, he  seemed pleased.

 

“It’s not a compliment,” Tony insists, even as they pass the actual bouncer who is as sleeveless at Clint. “You’re a tragedy.”

 

“Have you seen his arms? Covering them is a tragedy.” Darcy pets Clints bicep, black lacquered nails skating over the contours of his muscles as they step inside the lounge. “ _Unf_.”

 

“I need a drink." As they cut through the side of the club, Tony waves off the VIP room. He likes the recognition he gets in the public area better.  There’s always more awe, and anyone who comes up to talk to him usually just wants a selfie and an autograph, no shop talk or hostilities.  “What are you drinking,  Barton ?”

 

“Glenfield,” Darcy cuts in, shooting Tony a look that could not be described as anything but puppy dog eyes. “Pleaseeeee.”

 

He’d already intended on the Gledfield for Darcy, but he doesn’t want to look so easy in front of  Barton . “It’s four hundred dollars a bottle.”

 

“Glenfield, and I’ll find _two_ girls to go home with you tonight.” She bats her eyes, but she already knows Tony won't tell her no. Not even for her; he's not going to suffer through cheap liquor. “I’ll even make out with one of them in the car. Listen, you’re the one that introduced me to it and now I can’t go back to drinking the bottom shelf _swill_. I’m not a peasant anymore, remember? You said I don’t have to slum it with the plebs.”  

 

“I can pick up my own women, thank you.” Except he would like to see her ---- but that’s not the point. “ Barton , you drink whiskey right?”

“Like communion wine,” Clint assures him, leaning back in the VIP booth, an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. He looks amused, and Tony doesn’t care for it. “Religiously.”

 

“Glenfield it is.” He catches the waitress eye and beckons her over with a grin that promises money.  Darcy can easily drink a bottle by herself and staff has a way of remembering big spenders. 

 

Darcy blows him a kiss. “Thanks _Daddy_.”

 

He wishes he had a drink to hide his flush behind. “I regret every moment we spend together.”

 

Darcy can’t dance. Not...Not exactly. It beckons back to the physics of her physique.  But she can _move_.  Tony watches her move with Clint, who isn’t so much dancing as holding on for dear life. Tony in turn, holds the table, content to wear his women like expensive suits (all the time and fitted to his body).  Darcy had, as promised, sent a number of women his way.  

  


“Sheila, right?” He turns to look at the one beside him. Her hair's a little lighter than Darcy’s and Tony thinks that’s probably healthy.  She’s built more like Pepper, slim and willowy, with a delicate face.  He’s not sure he likes her hair, cut into a blunt, shoulder length bob. It’s tidy, and lacking in the chaos Tony admires in life.

 

“Sasha,” she corrects, but she doesn’t look offended. They never do. Tony knows what their fucking names are; he’s a fucking genius, isn’t he?  He’s just an asshole. “Isn’t that your girlfriend?” She points to Darcy who looks about three seconds from riding Clint’s thigh to completion on the dance floor.  Her nails match her dress exactly, and she’s not wearing any underwear. Tony wonders if Darcy has a checklist for approving women. “I’ve seen you in the papers.”

 

He laughs, and steals the cherry out of her candy colored drink.  “Would my girlfriend send you over here?”

 

Sheila adjusts herself where she’s seated in his lap, and yeah, Tony’s a little hard, pressed beneath her thighs. “Only if she’s was a really, really good girlfriend.”

 

Tony thinks Darcy would be _exactly_ that kind of girlfriend.  She’d been faithful to Bruce, but that seemed to be because Bruce prefered that kind of sentimentality.  Mongamy wouldn’t suit her, he thinks. “She’s actually my boss.”

 

Sheila blinks - brown eyes, not blue. “Your boss?”

 

The baby blonde tucked into his arm interjects, pink mouth open in surprise. Tony suspects she’s more Darcy’s type, with long blonde ringlets and a smattering of freckles.  Tony likes it well enough, but he might like that Darcy likes it, more. The appeal is skewed, but Tony knows he’ll fuck her first.  “i thought she was your secretary? You’re like...You’re Tony Stark.”

 

Tony preens.  His name is it’s own title, and he’s worked hard for that kind of recognition. “Yeah, but _she’s_ Darcy Lewis.” Let them think that’s something more. Darcy deserves it.

 

She grins, and plays with his fingers where they’re draped over her arm. “Does your boss usually play wing man?”

 

It’s not the first time, certainly.  It’s one of the many contrasting characteristics between Darcy and Pepper.  Pepper got mad when kicking them out; Darcy gets her thrills by _picking_ them out.  “Only when I’ve been a very, very good boy, Jess.”

 

“Jamie,” she corrects. Not offended.  They never are.

 

Darcy pours herself into their booth a short while later and drinks straight from the bottle center the table. Tony raises a hand to catch the waitresses eye again, holding two fingers up. “Ladies,” she says, in a way that makes them both blush and squirm.

 

“Calling it?” Tony's not particularly ready to leave.  With the new funding, and the shit with Darcy’s apartment, and then SHIELD, he hasn’t gone out much.  Tony’s not accustomed to idle days. He likes attention, and lime light.  He wants fawning masses, and awe and scandal. It feeds his ego.  

 

Darcy seems to delight in feeding his ego, fattening it up like a fucking house cat.  

 

She takes another drink, eyes not so much as watering at the burn.  “I think we probably have another hour left in us before we cause an actual scandal and I saw Happy talking to a pretty valet so no need to rush.”  Barton slides into the booth beside her, just as the waitress rematerlizes, glasses and ice in hand.  He snags a glass, and holds it out for Darcy who, begrudgingly, fills it with her own bottle. “You owe me.”

 

“Yeah? What do I owe you?” He drawls, grinning at her from behind his glass. He's too old to be looking at her like that, Tony thinks, with half his brain. 

 

With the other half, Tony is struck, not with jealousy, but with the sudden and inexplicable desire to see them fuck.  

_What in the fucking shit._

He swallows against that unlikely thought, and forces himself to grin. “Why don’t you two ladies go dance? Preferably where I can watch. This table, for instance. Just as suggestion.”

 

They _do,_ and the power in it taste better with whiskey.  Darcy looks unphased, use to Tony and his command.  Barton , who usually gripes that Tony could give up a little command, looks mildly impressed. He sips his drink, head tilted to the side as he looks up at the girls on the table between them. “You gonna dance, doll?” He asks Darcy.

 

“You just want to look up my dress.”

 

Tony, who had been previously looking up Blondies dress, thinks _yes_.  “I just wanna to see if your panties match your bra.”

 

It startles a laugh out of Darcy.  “The VIP rooms have poles, right?”

The VIP rooms _do_ have poles. Tony and  Barton  are seated side by side, chins angled up in parallel angles as they watch Darcy - and the others by proxy.

 

“Nat taught her that,” Barton says, as Darcy hooks her leg around the poll and pulls herself up with nothing but the power of her own thighs.

She’s a little hindered by her dress, but she manages the hold, bending back to arch her spine and let her hair fall as she spins.  She can’t dance but...Tony thinks she’s done this before.  

 

She’s gaining not small amount of attention from the other Money in the VIP lounge.  No one’s been so bold as to take a seat at their booth, but Tony can feel the weight of their gaze. He likes it, likes the sleezy, covetous looks. She’s not for him, but they don’t know that and Tony will never not appreciate people wanting what he has. He’s an ass, yes. But he’s made peace with it.

When nshe pushes the flat of her boot against his shoulder, back braced against the pole, Tony grabs her ankle, gently. “This is why people think you’re my escort."

 

She pushes _off_ him, arms overhead, hands holding tight as she rests her weight against her forearms. She braces her other boot against the pole as she spins and laughs before settling in front of Barton . She bends forward to steal his drink, and Tony admires the bottom curve of her ass.  She’s wearing panties, tiny black satin things that cover very little. 

She looks every inch a stripper, an escort, working a fucking pole in a lounge full of greedy, sleezy  _sharks_ , flashing her cunt in front of the greediest, sleeziest shark of them all.

 

He knows what she’s doing because this is what she _does_ .  Not six hour ago, she was threatening Men With Big Red Buttons, bringing them to heel with her head held high.  Not six and a half hours ago, she was confessing quietly to Tony that she Knows Too Much, with shaking hands.  Darcy doesn’t _do_ feelings. She doesn’t _do_ scared.  When the world gets big, Darcy makes herself small.  Playing the _slut_ , just another groupie on a pole, easy, dumb, harmless. Tony doesn’t love it but he gets it.  This is how Darcy _copes_.  No one else in this club knows who she is, or what she is. They don’t know that she could destroy them. They see tits, and a good time. And that suits her just fine.  She wears bimbo like he wears Playboy. 

 

They do manage to make it back to the tower without causing a scandal.  Pepper would be _so_ impressed.  Or maybe not.  Darcy nearly  picks up a third woman for him - and Tony’s half sure she’s teasing him or just very presumptuous about his stamina. In the limo, she pulls Jenna into her lap (and he called it, Jenna’s totally her type), and kisses her, long and wet.

 

Clint’s beside her, opposite Tony in the bench seats. “I should hang with you more often, Stark.” He adjusts himself, not so discreetly, and stares with a single-minded unrepentance that Tony can totally admire. Clint’s not drunk, but he’s on the drunk side of buzzed, looser than Tony’s ever seen him.  

 

“Life’s a party, Legolas. ”

 

Beside Tony, Sheila’s kissing up his neck, hand working the buckle on his belt with practiced fingers.  It’s the Tony Stark effect. Something about him - his money, his fame, his insistence- seems to encourage hedony.  Darcy’s penchant for hedony herself doesn’t help.  Still, he’s not looking to fuck them in the limo and send Happy to take them home. He has bigger plans.

 

He leans forward and hooks an arm over Jenna’s waist, pulling her into his own lap. She shrieks and laughs, as he hooks his chin over her shoulder. “No poaching Lewis. These are for me. If you wanted to bring someone home tonight you had plenty of time.”

 

Darcy tilts her head, dark waves spilling messily over her shoulder.  Her mouth is a mess, bruised and red. He is the chaos he desires. “Who says I didn’t?”

 

Oh.   _Oh_.  Beneath the curve of Blondie’s ass, Tony feels himself twitch.

 

Darcy doesn’t kiss Barton like she kisses Tony and that - Tony shouldn’t actually know that.  She wraps herself around Barton with smooth precision, tilting her head to fit herself against him, opening her mouth slightly, to lick at his. She climbs into his lap, dress hitched high up her ass and Barton’s not shy to touch her.  Blondie squeaks when Tony’s hold on her tightens a little, but she’s staring too so Tony figures that’s fine.  They kiss like they’ve done it before.  Tony doesn’t understand why he’s not jealous.

 

_Because Clint’s not a threat._

 

The little thought curls it’s way up like cigarette smoke.  It’s not like Bruce, or even fucking Johnny Storm.  Darcy’s not interested in Barton for anything but his body.  It’s kind of....

 

Tony’s a fucking shit person okay? (See: watching Bruce and Darcy fuck) But it’s kind of _working_ for him. The predatory delight  she takes in getting what she wants.  She likes Barton well enough, Tony knows them for friends, but she’s not against using him either.  And he’s not against being used.   

 

They pour themselves into the penthouse, passing Darcy’s snagged bottle of Glenfield around in the elevator. The ladies, bless their hearts, wince at their sips, having spent half the night with Lemon Drops and fruity bullshit.  Tony’s quickly losing interest in both of them and it’s a problem. He wants to see Darcy fuck Clint.

 

(Because there’s no other way it’s going to happen. Darcy’s going to fuck Clint.)

 

“Drink?” Tony asks Clint, from behind the bar in the den.  Back at the tower, Tony rightfully assumes Barton will be more at ease. He accepts the drink -whiskey straight on the rocks - and knocks it back Darcy Style (disrespectfully; this shit is expensive).

 

“I’m not one hundred percent sure what’s happening here,” Barton admits, as they both watch Darcy peel Sheila out of her dress in the middle of the long, wrap-around couch. “But I’m....not exactly against it.”

 

“I don’t want to fuck you, if that helps,” Tony throws out. Tony likes dudes just fine, on occasion, but Clint’s Not His Type. Too tall.

 

“I feel like I should be offended.” Barton holds his glass out again, and he dutifully fills it. Clint’s drinking to catch up, and Tony can appreciate that. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

“Darcy has her own agenda.” And Tony’s like ninety percent sure it’s an orgy.  

 

“Wait, wait,” Darcy pulls herself away from Sheila with an audible, wet smacking sound. “Shit. Fuck. Hold on. Almost forgot.” She leans over the side of the couch, dress hiked so far up Tony can see just about everything. Her panties are missing; Tony thinks they might be in his limo. ”Where the fuck is my purse?”

 

Tony thinks she’s looking for condoms, but when he tosses her the purse, she pulls out very familiar white forms. Bless her heart. “Standard Non Disclosure, ladies.” She smiles sweetly, little hand moving its way up Blondie’s dress. “You understand. Gotta keep what happens here between...the five of us.”

 

Clint makes a tiny little choked noise in the back of his throat. “She’s _good_.”

Tony spots a third and _fourth_ , abandoned form,  and an impressive number of little foil squares as well. He _boggles_ at her ambition. He’s not _that_ young anymore, as much as he’d like to be.  “She is that.”

 

Tony’s not sure how they segway to fucking, but he’s sure Darcy orchastrated it herself.

 

Barton seems content to watch. Very content to watch, fully dressed from his end of the couch.  Darcy’s on her knees, on the floor, head between the Girl Ones thighs, while Girl Two rides Tony. She’s still in the dress he picked out which is a fucking travesty, really. The other two are naked, Tony’s naked enough. Darcy’s still got her fucking shoes on.  

 

He’s not a good enough person to deserve this, so it’s obviously meant to be torture.

 

This isn’t his first rodeo, but it’s the first time he’s ever been more invested in someone he wasn’t actively fucking.  This must be love, he thinks, watching Darcy pull Shiela  to the edge of the couch and hook both her legs over her shoulders. Darcy ....looks like she knows what she’s doing.  And judging by the breathy, pitched little moans - she’s doing it very well.

 

Darcy lifts her head up, and Tony... Tony nearly loses it at the sight of her slick, wet mouth.  And then again, when she opens her mouth to speak. “You should sit on my face.”

 

On the other end of the couch, Tony sees Barton palm himself too roughly to be anything but desperate. He _gets_ it. He _feels_ it.

 

She lays with her head near Tony,  at the center of the couch where it curves like an L, one leg stretched out across the cushions, and the other foot braced against the floor. Shauna or Sheila or whoever, fits her slim thighs on either side of Darcy’s face. She seems tentative, a surprised little yelp escaping her when Darcy wraps her arms around her legs and pulls her down.

Beyond Darcy and Shauna, Barton moves. _Strikes_ , really, is a better word for it. He shoves Darcy’s legs apart, kneels between them, rough hands pushing her dress to her belly. He braces one hand on the back of the couch, while the other works between Darcy’s legs, easy and presumptuous because it’s been there before. Tony can see _almost_ everything from where he sits, and he fucks up into Jenna a little harder, feeling fractious and wild.

 

Darcy makes a _noise_ , and Tony’s heard it before. In his lab, on the floor, where she laid beneath Bruce. He’s an awful person, a fucking shit person, and he very nearly comes at the fucking sound of it. “Kiss,” he demands, pulling Sheila gently forward to meet Jenna in his lap.  It’s a pretty picture and he wishes he was more into it, but mostly - he doesn’t want to hear them. Doesn’t want them to interrupt.  He can’t pay attention, isn’t giving it his all, even as he takes Blondies hand and presses her fingers to her own cunt.  He can’t be fucked to get her off, not when all he cares about is hearing Darcy make that noise again.

 

He’s...It’s a little tricky, with his pants around his knees, but he’s close enough to kick out his foot and catch Darcy’s knee, pulling her thighs wider. She's so _pink_ , and Barton's so _rough_. She makes the noise again, louder this time, surprised, and half muffled under someone else's cunt.

 

That’s---Tony needs---He needs to fucking see her face.

 

He turns to Jenna in his lap, hands on her hips, fucking her down harder. “That’s in honey,” he tells her, only half invested. He just wants her to come.  To her credit, she doesn’t seem to give a shit about him, working toward her own pleasure and that suits Tony just fine. When she comes, he kisses her so he doesn’t have to hear it in her voice, and lifts her off his cock without so much as a moment's respite.  He lets her tumble helplessly against the cushions beside him, a panting sated mess, and pulls Shiela off Darcy’s face without any warning.

 

Darcy looks like she might protest, but then Barton does something that makes her cry out just as Tony fits Sheila onto his lap. She doesn’t miss a beat, riding him fast and hard; she doesn’t have to be told to get herself off. Tony pays her almost no attention even as he braces his feet against the floor and fucks up into her.

 

Clint’s got his mouth on Darcy. She’s pulling at his blonde hair where it’s buried between her thick, pale thighs.  Tony wishes she’d taken the dress off, wants nothing more than to see her bare and coming.  Her eyes are shut, mouth open and she’s--- not quiet. She’s breathy, the rasp in her voice made smokier with sex.  Barton has both her legs hooked over his shoulders as he fucks her hard and deep with his fingers. Tony can hear it - she’s so fucking wet - and when she comes, she grabs onto him instead of Clint, small hand curling over his bicep, nails biting at his skin through his jacket---

 

He doesn’t come, but it’s a near goddamn thing.

 

“Fuck him,” Tony says, through gritted teeth.  Sheila's hips stutter, and he forces her back down on his cock.  “Not you. Her. Darcy. _Fuck him._ ”

 

He shouldn’t--- He doesn’t have the right to call the shots. It’s just - he really, really wants to see her fuck him.   Clint, for his part, seems to agree. He pushes up from his sprawl, and pulls her into his lap.  Darcy finds a condom, as he pulls himself loose from his jeans.  Tony wonders how he can get her to take her dress off without asking.

 

He shouldn’t already know the exact shade of pink of Darcy’s cunt, but he does.  He is familiar. He watches as she settles herself down onto Clint’s dick, inch by inch, takes no small amount of pleasure in being just a _little_ bigger. (Smaller than Bruce, though. Fucker.).

 Clint’s doing his best to get Darcy’s dress off, even as she fucks himself up and down him.

 

“Unzip it,” he tells her, hauling the hem up over her ass again - and _fuck_.  She has dimples, twin dimples at the base of her back that he’s never noticed before.  Tony quietly makes it his life ambition to come on them. “Unzip it Lewis, or I’m going to tear it off.”

 

Darcy doesn’t seem to care. Isn’t listening. She’s rolling her hips, thighs flexing, and Tony feels his balls draw up at the long _riiiiiiiiiiiip_ that fills the air. Tony’s fairly sure that dress cost more than Clint’s tac vest, and he still approves of it’s removal.

 

Clint puts his hands on her just the way Tony wishes he could.  He follows his hands with his mouth, licking up between them, biting at the curves. He doesn't go for her nipples, and Tony files that away for later. 

 

“You’re gonna wanna come,” he tells Sheila, matter-of-fact. He’s not going to last.

 

Not when Darcy’s bracing her hands on Clint’s knees, and fucing herself down hard and fast, gorgeous fucking tits bouncing with every roll of her hips. Clint, for his part, is far more a gentleman than Tony. He gets his hands between her thighs, and when Darcy cries out, back arching, Tony’s just...He’s fucking done.

 

He’s not sure if Shiela comes. He doesn’t really care. Not when Clint’s flipping Darcy over and fucking her through one orgasm and into another.   Darcy grabs onto him again, hand curling into his and Tony comes so hard the world spins.

***

When Tony wakes up, it’s _too_ early.  Not Time To Exist early, but hours before.  He can hear Darcy outside his room, quiet voice pitched almost too low. “Press G on the elevator for the garage level, and Greg will take you home. Hold up, Jamie I think you forgot your...Uh. Whatever. Something.”

 

The door closes, a quiet click. “I’m pretty sure I have my purse,” Jamie’s voice curls up like a question. “Unless there was something else you wanted?”

 

“I want you to tell Nick to back off,” Darcy says, flatly and Tony throws himself up from the bed, ready to intervene. “Although, nice touch. He’s got my type nailed down.”

 

Jamie laughs, and Tony doesn’t know what to make of it. “They pulled me out of a mission in Jersey,” she admits. “Is that why you put me on Stark?”

 

“I promised him two girls.” Darcy snorts. “NDA stands. I find any of this floating around the SHIELD watering hole, I will personally fry you.”

 

“I’m pretty sure Hawkeye would fight you for the opportunity. I'm a plant, not a moron. ” Jamie seems to hesitate. “You really have moles?”

 

“What do you think?” Darcy pulls the door open. “It’s been real. Send Nick my regards.”

 

“Agent Lewis,” Jamie says, with a respectful sort of finality.

 

“I’m not an Agent anymore.”

 

“Darcy,” Jamie’s voice is dry. “You might not be an Agent of SHIELD, but you’re still an Agent. Obviously.”

 

Darcy creeps into his room, wearing tiny pajamas.  Her face is pink, and make up free, like she scrubbed it clean before coming to find him. “I sent the girls home,” she says, words coming out a little slurred - either she’s still drunk or she’s not fully awake. “Can I sleep in here? The couch smells like sex, and Clint  kicks in his sleep.”

 

Tony throws the blankets back wordlessly, and watches her fit herself between the sheets. “I know what you’re doing,” he tells her, and she gives him a wide eyed, surprised look. “You don’t handle being scared well, do you?”

 

Darcy looks away. “Maybe I just like fucking.”

 

“I know you do,” Tony laughs. “I’m just saying. Going out, right after you’ve royally pissed of SHIELD.  I know reckless when I see it. Dancing on tables. Bringing SHIELD agents home to sit on my dick.”

 

“I was with you,” Darcy tells him, honesty slipping out on sleepy tongues. “It’s not reckless if I’m safe.”

 

“You like to do dumb shit when you’re scared.” It’s not so far from Tony’s own MO of reckless behavior but his is usually brought out by anger. “Like orgies with your boss.”

 

“Clint didn’t fuck anyone but me, so it wasn’t an orgy,” Darcy informs him. “And I’m _your_ boss.”

 

“I think orgies with your staff is actually worse.”

 

“We’ve already had a threesome and you watched me fuck Bruce.” She shrugs, and Tony can see the hard press of her nipples through her thin tank top. “That ship has sailed.”

 

Tony, for his part, feels violently fucking stunned. “You knew about that?”

 

“I asked Jarvis.” Darcy grins at him, eyes bright and sparkling. “Pretty hot though, right?”

 

“I really thought Bruce was going to blow his load within the first ten minutes.” Which, Tony realizes belatedly, is admitting that he watched more than ten minutes. “Sorry.”

 

“You’re not sorry.” She doesn’t sound upset. “And I mean, I climbed into his lap in the middle of your lab. I knew the risks.”

 

“I think you like an audiance,” Tony gripes.

 

Darcy curls onto her side, and presses the point of her chin into his shoulder. “It’s amazing both our egos even fit in one bed.” She walks her fingertips across his chest, to touch the arc reactor over the thin material of his sleep shirt. She falls asleep with her hand covering the dome and Tony falls asleep staring at it.

 

***

 

He leaves her in bed when real morning sets in.  In his kitchen, Clint’s bleary eyed at his breakfast counter. “You’ve got...Lipstick.” Tony points to his cheek.

 

Clint touches it, smudging the red. “It’s how Darcy tells me she left before I tried to put her in a choke hold. I’m not...great at sharing a bed. We learned the hard way.”

 

“Darcy never mentioned.” It isn’t what he meant to say, but it’s what he said.  “You and her, I mean.”

 

Clint shrugs. “She’s not wrong to keep some secrets.” He pins Tony with a long, curious look. “Phil didn’t send me as a bodyguard you realize. Darcy’s more than capable of handling herself, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

 

Tony blinks. “He sent you ----”

 

“So I wouldn’t go home with a rando he doesn’t have a file on,” Darcy grumbles, shambling into the kitchen. She takes Clint’s coffee, bodily, from his hands. “He’s been throwing Clint at me for a while. Clint’s good in the sack, so I allow it.”

 

“Gee, thanks Darce.” Clint watches her drink his coffee, pouting.

 

Darcy leans against Tony. She’s always ridiculously cold in the mornings.  “Oh whatever. You’re actively being paid to fuck me.  Phil basically pays you to be my booty call. That makes you a prostitute.”

 

Clint shrugs. “I’ve done worse, for less.”

 

Darcy makes a face at that, not exactly offended. “Ugh. Right. It’s like Tuesday, what the fuck. Clint - Jamie’s on payroll, you might drop in and give Nick some shit about that.  Tony, we’ve got like one appointment, and then I have shit to do on the office. You should bring the nerds in R and D some coffee or some shit. The Expo has them all worked up. Can we just like...Hire starbucks? To come here? Or maybe something local. Yeah, there’s that indy place a few blocks over----”

 

Tony watches, just like that, as she slips on her Darcy Lewis Head Bitch In Charge Hat, like last night didn’t happen, or didn’t matter, and he falls a little more in love.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha. idk. I just wanted to write a little porn and Tony being in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, very little of this will even affect the fic. I just like BAMF Darcy being all protective of Tony. 
> 
> Also there's a second chapter.


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